


Nothing With You

by grahamcrackercrumbs



Category: One Direction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wizards, M/M, tmh tour AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1977-04-14
Updated: 1977-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grahamcrackercrumbs/pseuds/grahamcrackercrumbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s mouth turns down at the side, but he can’t help but ask, “Did you guys know that you were going to get your Marks before you got them?”<br/>Louis sighs, rolling his eyes impatiently, but Liam, bless his heart, repeats the answer he’s told Harry multiple times since the day he found out they’d gotten their Marks.<br/>“The Marks confirmed it, like, made us sure, but we basically already knew.”<br/>“Don’t know why you’re so eager.” Zayn doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until everyone is staring at him. He shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention back to the wandering students, huddled in groups together or frantically finishing work</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmarie/gifts).



“Zayn, have you finished your revisions for Professor Dolan?”

Zayn rubs his sleepy eyes, unaware of what’s been asked, lost in his own thoughts as Liam, Niall, Harry, and Louis chat amongst themselves. Turning his attention back to the scene in front of him he sees Liam looking at him expectantly, Louis’ arm slung around him waist. Zayn grunts unenthusiastically. He doesn’t talk this early in the morning- he’s not quite sure why Liam’s even bothering.

Liam smiles at him earnestly, eyes crinkling. “Y’know you can copy mine if you want.” His smile drops suddenly lips forming a serious pout. “But you really should study. The exam’s coming up soon, and it’s most of our mark.”

Zayn gives him as much of a smile as he can muster to convey his appreciation at the offer. He watches as Harry leans over and tears off a piece of toast that Niall’s eating. Niall scowls, batting his hand away with a grunt of protest, but Harry’s already popped the bread in his mouth, a victorious smirk on his face.

“Just materialize a new piece!” Harry insists, hands in the air.

“You always say that, but it’s the thought that counts, mate.”

Niall gives him a look of annoyance before holding his hand out to his side expectantly. Within seconds, a freshly toasted slice of bread complete with jam and butter appears, and Niall carefully tosses it back and forth between his palms waiting for it to cool off. Harry gives him an unimpressed look.

“The temperature is hardest part!” Niall exclaims, defending himself to the silent comment.

“On a much more important note,” Harry states, turning back to the rest of the boys, “when do you guys think I’ll get my Soulmate Mark?”

Everyone, including Zayn, groans. Harry hasn’t stopped talking about getting his Soulmate Mark for the past two weeks- ever since Liam and Louis got theirs.

Harry gives them an offended look, crossing his arms while a wrinkle between his eyebrows forms. “This is important! I’m like, the definition of romantic! By all accounts I should’ve gotten my Mark first.”

Niall scoffs and takes another bite of toast. “Yeah, you’re a real charmer, Styles.”

Smirking, Louis adds, “Yeah, it’s probably to your benefit romantic competence has nothing to do with it.”

He makes a move to mess up Liam’s tie, but Liam grabs his hand readily without even looking and intertwines their fingers.

Harry’s mouth turns down at the side, but he can’t help but ask, “Did you guys know that you were going to get your Marks before you got them?”

Louis sighs, rolling his eyes impatiently, but Liam, bless his heart, repeats the answer he’s told Harry multiple times since the day he found out they’d gotten their Marks.

“The Marks confirmed it, like, made us sure, but we basically already knew.”

“Don’t know why you’re so eager.” Zayn doesn’t realize he’s said it out loud until everyone is staring at him. He shrugs his shoulders and turns his attention back to the wandering students, huddled in groups together or frantically finishing work.

Liam checks his watch and announces that class is about to start. They all get up, shuffling their bags onto their shoulders and notebooks into their hands. Niall pops the last piece of toast into his mouth.

“You’re always grumpy in the morning,” Harry comments, picking up his books. He walks over and with a wide smile places a quick kiss to Zayn’s cheek. “It’s cute, though.”

Zayn rolls his eyes dismissively and hopes desperately that he’s not noticeably blushing. “Whatever.”

Harry grins easily and turns back to Niall. “You should really start materializing whole wheat bread, Niall. S’much better for you.”

"Doesn't seem to stop you from stealing it," Niall retorts.

Zayn sighs to himself, exasperated, and shakes his head. He bites down on the inside of his lip to cover his smile before promptly closing his eyes and teleporting himself to Nordic Creatures 103.

Harry adds more shower gel to his loofah, rubbing sudsy circles on his skin as he washes off the alcohol and sweat from last night and revels in the relaxation of Saturday morning. He’s added a special potion his mum gave him to add to his soap today- an easy-to-brew concoction that’s supposed to not only enhance the fragrance of his soap, but make his skin glow like the rain crystals they use in class. As he goes about his routine, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, he finds himself humming “Stayin’ Alive” underneath his breath. The warm smell of vanilla floats up around him in the small shower as he makes his way across his shoulders and down his legs. He’s still singing when he gets out of the shower, moving his feet in a little dance as he dries himself off. The finale ends with him in the classic John Travolta disco pose, hip cocked and finger pointing up. He looks over his shoulder at the bathroom mirror to give an all too serious pout, but yelps in surprise when he sees what’s on his stark naked bum.

Right there, against his pasty ass is what appears to be an extraordinarily detailed drawing of a cinnamon bun. Harry rubs at it, wondering if maybe Zayn had drawn it the night before after they’d wandered into a friend’s dorm and gotten pissed. Nothing comes off despite his attempts- the image doesn’t even begin to fade. Harry feels his face draw up in a cringe as he realizes this may be permanent, another drunken stumble into the tattoo shop just like his first time. Back then the results hadn’t been nearly as disastrous- just a smiley face for him on the side of his wrist and a matching frowny face for Zayn. This- this he is never going to live down. Of course, his friends and family don’t have to see the tattoo, but the idea of always having to wear pants is too much for him to consider at a stressful time like this.

He scurries into his bedroom, mumbling, “Shit, shit, shit,” and flings himself onto his bed, burying his head ashamedly in the covers. He reaches out blindly, shuffling his hand around on his blankets for a few moments until he finds his phone, and dials Zayn’s number.

Zayn of course doesn’t pick up. It’s truly a mark of Harry’s state of mind that he even bothers. Instead he texts him:

Zayn!!! Big Bloody Problem!!! Did we get tattoos again last night??? xxx

It takes a few minutes before Zayn responds: 

nope. dont think so. y? xx

Because I think there’s one on my bum!!!!

??xx

COME OVER NOW!!!!

Harry looks at the last text message again before typing out: 

Please :-)xxx

It takes Zayn ten minutes to teleport to his door, which is five minutes faster than Harry had anticipated, so he figures all his extra exclamation points must have done the trick.

Harry doesn’t even bother with a greeting when he answers the door to Zayn. He grabs his hand hurriedly and pulls him inside his apartment, leaving Zayn with a look of discontent at having to move so quickly as early as midday.

“Look!” Harry exclaims, hurriedly turning around and pulling down his pants to show Zayn the offending mark

Zayn quickly bites down on his lip to cover the shit eating grin on his face, giving instead a mockingly stern look. As he scratches at the scruff on his jaw and chin he declares, “Thas’ a cinnamon roll, mate.”

Harry’s eyes widen as he raises his hands in the air. “Yeah! I know! Where the fuck did it come from you reckon?”

Zayn runs his hand through his hair. It’s floppy and flat, but sticking up in awkward places since he hasn’t styled it yet. The blonde streak is brighter than Harry remembers, so his mum must have just re-charmed it.

“Dunno. I mean, you for sure didn’t get a tattoo last night; I was with you the whole time.”

“Well… can’t you just try anyway? Do you know any spells for this sort of thing?” Harry looks positively desperate.

“I guess...” Zayn scratches the back of his neck. “I could try the spell I use to get the marker off our faces when Louis draws on us.”

“Do it!” Harry’s practically jumping out of his skin, shifting his weight back and forth as he wrings his hand together.

“Alright, alright!” Zayn holds his hand out, reciting the spell in his mind, and a shimmering, twirling, amber light comes out, falling on to Harry’s skin.

“Tickles,” Harry murmurs.

The light is tracing the lines of the cinnamon roll, sending off little sparks of silver, like the fall of a firework, but nothing changes.

“S’not working, Harry.”

Harry groans in frustration, turning around to plead, “Try harder!” Zayn bites down on his lip hard, trying to disguise his smile for focus. Harry doesn’t buy it. “Stop laughing! This is serious, Zayn!”

“I’m fucking trying, mate! I’m staring at your bum, fucking what do you expect? You’ve got a cinnamon roll on your ass, Harry!”

Harry’s scowl breaks, and he giggles along lightly, the usual mirth in his eyes coming back.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Sorry, I went a bit mental for a second.”

He walks over to hug Zayn, a warm smile on his face as he buries his head into the crook of Zayn’s neck. Zayn rubs his hand across his back.

“You gonna pull your pants back up?”

“In a second,” Harry replies, breathing out a sigh that Zayn feels of his skin and snuggling for a moment longer.

He pulls away, tugging up the band of his pants, and looks at Zayn skeptically. “You promise you didn’t draw it on me, right?”

Zayn holds his hand to his chest, solemn. “Promise, Harry.”

A moment of time passes before Zayn continues, “Y’know, maybe it’s your Soulmate Mark. You’ve been on about how you think you’re going to get it for weeks now.”

“My Soulmate Mark?” Harry scratches his neck as his eyebrows draw together. “But… aren’t they usually… I don’t know… better?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Better? Better how?”

Harry shifts his weight back and forth on his feet, pulling his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he tries to figure out his thoughts. “I don’t know… Prettier.”

“Prettier,” Zayn deadpans.

“Yeah, like, flowers or boats or mermaids. Oh, I wish mine was a mermaid…”

“Now you’re just getting bloody picky, Harry. You don’t get to choose your Soulmate Mark. Everybody knows that. And they’re not all pretty. It depends- on the people, on the relationship- you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”

Harry groans and tosses his head back dramatically. “Stop talking to me like I’m your little sister. I know all that, but a boy can still dream, okay?”

Zayn can’t help the smile that tugs on the corner of his mouth. Harry goes to lay on the couch, feet padding across the plush carpet, and drags Zayn with him, both of them lying down to stare up at the ceiling.

With a sigh Harry asks softly, “I guess the real question is, who is it for? Who’s my Soulmate?” Harry rolls over to look at Zayn, curling his legs over Zayn’s so their ankles cross and tucking his head under Zayn’s arm. They’re close like this, Harry’s nose pressed against Zayn’s ribs and Zayn’s hand coming around to stroke at Harry’s shoulder, feeling his soft skin. It’s nothing new, but Zayn’s chest never ceases to tighten when he sees Harry this close up, feels the heat radiating from his body. Harry’s hair is still wet from his shower, leaving Zayn’s shirt damp where Harry’s lying on him. Zayn cards his hands through the strands, twirling pieces around his finger, and Harry sighs contentedly. Zayn’s breathing a lot more carefully than normal and starts to feel himself get a bit dizzy from the mixed scent of vanilla and apple that’s characteristically Harry. He stares at the curve of Harry’s mouth, following the arch of his eyebrows to the sparse freckles on his cheeks. Harry looks up at him with green, doe eyes, insistent.

“Who do you think, Zayn?”

Zayn’s transfixed, unable able to look away or talk, so he just murmurs something noncommittal. Harry’s always more than enthusiastic when he talks about his Soulmate, a slightly manic glint of excitement in his eye. Zayn can’t say he feels the same. The idea of actually having a Soulmate terrifies him. Especially since he got his Mark months ago- but Harry doesn’t have to know that.

Harry looks down and moves his head to rest on Zayn’s chest. “Guess that’s my problem to figure out anyway.” A pout forms on his lips. “Do you know how many people eat cinnamon rolls, Zayn?”

He looks up again when Zayn doesn’t answer.

Patiently Zayn replies, “No, I don’t, Harry.”

Harry gives him an important, knowing look. “A lot.”

Zayn lets out an amused laugh, eyes crinkling, and smacks Harry’s bum playfully, right over his Mark. “Better get to it then.”

Harry researches for hours each day, searching for spells that could help him figure out how to narrow down who his Soulmate is, but he finds no leads. Any magic directly involved in the manipulation or invocation of love is directly off limits, since it's considered part of the dark arts. The heart is a messy thing, and there’s no telling the consequences if one were to try to make it act on something sooner than fate designed. Harry had tried to charm his way into the forbidden section of the library using only his dimples, but the librarian couldn’t be budged.

Even Zayn couldn’t come up with a loophole, and he was by far the best-versed in spells and magic methodology out of any of them.

The best thing he can think of is to take a more hands on approach, so Harry spends every morning before school for the next two weeks in the bakery down the road. He grins brightly at everyone who comes in to the bakery and watches the register closely to see if any of them buy a cinnamon roll. When they do he tries to make conversation with them, but none of them have that... pull he’d been expecting. None of them take his breath away, make romantic music play in the background, or blur out everything in the world except for them. Every day he leaves disappointed, and by the end of the second week he can't stand the smell of baked goods anymore and is on the verge of describing himself as jaded and bitter.

When Harry dramatically throws himself across Zayn’s bed and proclaims that he’s “never” going to find his Soulmate, Zayn decides it’s time for a little intervention and suggests they go antique shopping. Harry perks up immediately, kissing Zayn on the cheek and commending him on his brilliant idea.

Zayn loathes antique shopping, always has since he was a little child and his mum would take him along on the odd Saturday morning. All the shops smell weird, things are dusty, and the energy is just- weird, which makes sense since the owners of all the original items are probably long dead. Harry loves it, though, insisting that the smell is “nostalgic” and all the faded, vintage knick-knacks are “charming”. Zayn doesn’t buy it, but he loves seeing the smile on Harry’s face as they walk around, curiosity and appreciation in his eyes as he takes everything in.

Harry’s rummaging around in a small drawer that’s filled with scarves of various patterns and materials. Without turning around he asks, “Maybe I’ll find my Soulmate while we’re out shopping, huh Zayn?”

Zayn’s standing in the middle of the aisle, hands firmly in his pockets, trying not to cough at the dust in the room. “Maybe.”

“I mean, maybe my Soulmate just really has a love for cinnamon rolls. Or likes to bake. It doesn’t mean they have to be eating one when I find them.” Harry trails on in his usual way, and Zayn tips his head to the side, listening fondly. “I hope they like to bake; we’d probably get on really well then.”

“They’re your Soulmate, Harry. I’m pretty sure it’s fate that you’ll get on well.”

Harry shrugs, but when he turns to face Zayn he has a grin on his face. He holds up three different scarves. “Which one do you think’s best?”

Zayn studies them for a minute before deciding, “The floral one.” The green of the leaves matches his eyes, and the soft rose of the petals will look lovely against his hair and are the same shade as Harry’s lips, but Zayn tries not to linger on the last observation as much.

Harry smiles, content with his find, and they walk to the register together. “I was hoping you’d say this one. It has the best aura; I think the person who owned it before was really kind.”

They all have different specialties when it comes to their magic, stemming from whatever type of traits they naturally have. Harry’s good with people, energies, and transfiguration. He’s the only one out of all of them that’s been able to turn himself into another creature- his favorite being a speckled brown Maine Coon. Zayn was a bit unsure when Harry first came crawling onto his lap as a kitten, but he’s never been one for words anyway. They watched TV, and he almost forgot it wasn’t same old Harry,Zayn petting him while Harry purred in his lap. Zayn’s better with spells and potions- things that are intricate, take time, and give him room for his own personal flair.

As the old man at the front desk is ringing up the purchase, Zayn pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to show Harry a surprise.

"Aye, look what I charmed my tattoo to do."

Harry watches as Zayn sweeps his hand over his "ZAP!" tattoo. It suddenly turns 3-D, the color popping out like in the live-action comics he buys at the shop.

"Whoa!" Harry gasps, grabbing on to his arm. "That's amazing!"

Zayn holds up a finger. "Wait, just watch."

Zayn punches the air and a loud "Ka-pow!" sounds, just like in action movies. Harry's jaw drops, and he stares in glee as Zayn karate chops the air and more sound effects resonate around them.

"Sick right?" It had taken Zayn ages to get the spell right so there wasn't a delay between the motion and sound. It was well worth it.

"It's brilliant! Can you make our smiley and frowny faces wink? Oh, Louis is going to be so jealous when you show him."

Harry's positively beaming at him, and Zayn feels overwhelmingly full and warm inside, not quite knowing how to handle the compliment.

He looks down shyly, nibbling on his bottom lip, and Harry swings his arm around his waist, giving him a quick squeeze and nuzzling his nose into his shoulder.

“You're so clever, Zayn." Harry takes his purchase from the old man who's looking at them fondly and adds, "Thanks for taking me here, Zayn. You’re the best.”

“I’ve given up.”

Zayn curses silently to himself. The sun is beaming down on them as they lay in Harry’s backyard, and Zayn wipes a bead of sweat that’s gathered on his forehead.

“Harry, don’t-”

“No, Zayn,” Harry continues calmly, “I really have. I guess I’m not supposed to meet my Soulmate quite yet. I mean, am I annoyed? Yes. Have I lost countless hours of sleep going to that bakery so early every fucking morning that I will never get back? Sure. But that’s just Fate, innit?”  
Zayn hums shortly, leaving Harry to deal with his emotions in whatever way he knows how. He’d already brought out a soothing energy candle earlier, but Zayn’s guessing it’s not strong enough.

“Zayn, what the fuck is that?” Harry sounds amused, like he’s trying to stifle laughter.

“Wha’?” Zayn replies lazily. He doesn’t even bother moving his arm from over his eyes. Offhandedly he thinks Harry probably needs to put on my sunscreen. He burns so easily.

“That on your shoulder. You get a new tattoo without telling me?”

“Oh fuck,” Zayn mutters to himself, heartbeat halting in his chest. He’d been so good about keeping it hidden, not letting Harry see it when he tackles Zayn trying to wrestle, always making sure to have a t-shirt or sweatshirt on when he comes over. Today had been the first real day of sunshine all year, though, and in the pure excitement Zayn had forgotten why he shouldn’t have stripped off his shirt and agreed to a sunbathing session with Harry.

“Zayn,” Harry whines, “when did you get it?”

Zayn leans up onto his elbows trying to look casual. “I, uh- I got it…,” Zayn’s screaming at himself to think, but nothing coherent will come out of his mouth.

Harry gives him a defensive look, his trademark pout forming on his face as his brow wrinkles. “Why are you lying? I can see it; your aura goes all sick green when you try to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Zayn exclaims. It’s the only sentence that seems to be able to make its way out of his mouth.

Harry sits up. “You’re only making it worse. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me, Zayn; it was just a question.”

Zayn gives him a desperate look, but Harry only stares at him quizzically. He slumps back on to the beach chair and groans. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“Zayn what is-” Harry’s eyes go comically wide, before a wild grin crosses his face. “You got your Mark!” He jumps over to Zayn’s side, and traces his fingers over it. “It’s a bit silly that it’s a banana, but it’s still quite cute. I’m rather jealous, but very, very happy for you, mate.”

Harry throws himself on top of Zayn, squishing him with a bear hug. “Did you find out who your Soulmate is yet?”

Zayn’s chest feels tight, and he thinks the sweat on his palms isn’t from the day’s sun anymore. “Y-yeah,” he chokes out, “I did.”

If it’s even possible Harry’s smile gets even bigger, and his eyes get even wider. “Oh my god, who Zayn? Who?” Harry’s staring at him intensely, shaking Zayn’s shoulders in his excitement.  
There’s a barrage of twists and turns and flips happening in Zayn’s stomach, and he’s honestly considering throwing Harry off him in case he gets sick.

“Well, you know how you’ve been looking for someone that likes cinnamon rolls?”

Harry nods, confusion dampening his smile. Zayn makes a kind of strangled sound and points to the blonde swirl in his hair, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. He can hear the gasp Harry makes when the realization finally comes to him, shock and clarity crossing his face. In a moment it his mouth turns down, and Zayn can see the hurt and anger he was expecting on Harry’s face. Harry quickly hops off of Zayn, hands coming up to ruffle through his hair hurriedly.

“What the fuck, Zayn? You’re my Soulmate?”

“I’m sorry,” is all Zayn can think to say.

“Zayn, I’ve been wondering for over a month! I’ve spent every moment for the past five weeks thinking about this!" Narrowing his eyes Harry adds, "When did you get yours?”

Harry’s standing with both hands on his hips, staring down at Zayn with a stern expression. Zayn doesn’t think he could ever call Harry “intimidating”, but this is definitely the most upset he’s ever seen him.

“Like… a few months ago?”

Harry’s jaw drops. “A few months… How could you not tell me, Zayn? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Or Louis, or Liam, or Niall?" Harry's hands are flailing at his sides from how upset he is. "For fuck’s sake, at least tell your Soulmate!”

“Harry, I’m sorry. I just… it was, like, a lot to deal with. I just wanted to wait as long as possible.”

“You let me try so hard to figure out who they were, and you were there the whole time. You’re selfish, Zayn. I finally found my Soulmate, and he’s selfish and a liar.”

Harry spits out the last word with particular venom, and Zayn feels tiny under his gaze.

“I-”

Harry’s mouth is set in a resolute line. “I want you to leave, Zayn.”

“Harry, I wanna explain-”

“Leave,” Harry says more firmly. “Please.”

His eyes are tinged slightly red, and Zayn can see tears pooling at his lower lash line that Harry stubbornly blinks away. He walks into his house before Zayn can even leave, not bothering to check behind him. Zayn sighs, covering his face with hand, and teleports back home. He wishes he didn’t have to materialize again so immediately; he wishes he could just float around in space as micro-particles and energy for a little while, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the sick feeling in his stomach.

That’s what got him into this situation in the first place, though, and when he opens his eyes, he’s back in his room, lying on the many layers of blankets and comforter he has on his bed.

He finds himself wandering out into the rest of his house, dragging his feet, and sees his mum relaxing on the couch watching her favorite program, “Wicked Witches of Edinburgh”.

He sits on the couch beside her, and with a flick of her fingers she pauses the show.

“What’s going on, Sunshine?”

Zayn averts his eyes down and away from her, rubbing at the texture of the couch to distract himself. “Harry found out.”  
He’d told his mum the news a few days after he’d gotten his Mark, unable to keep anything from her for too long. Zayn hadn’t ever spent much time thinking about whether or not he was even going to get a Soulmate Mark. Many people didn’t and still led incredibly fulfilling lives. Zayn had had the odd crushes here and there, but mostly his mind had always been filled with spells he'd been learning and fantastical stories of travel and danger that he’d read about famous Wizards from the past.

Except for Harry. There was a pull when he’d first met Harry, something that made his shy eyes and mouth miraculously start a conversation with him their first day of Higher Level Wizardry two years ago. That’s why Zayn had known right away that his Mark was for him. Even without it he’d felt something inside he couldn’t necessarily describe that anchored him to Harry and made him want to stay that way, forever.

Instead of being excited, though, he’s felt this impending sense of doom. Zayn can’t wrap his head around the idea being with the same person for his entire life. 150 plus years gives someone a lot of time to get to know their Soulmate, and Zayn’s not sure he wants that. He’s moody and needs a lot of time to himself. Sometimes he doesn’t talk to people for days at a time, and he likes it that way. Harry’s the complete opposite, and Zayn doesn’t understand how that’s supposed to work out. He wonders if Fate has ever made a wrong decision before.

Zayn’s mum runs her hand over his hair, trailing along the swirl of blonde. “You’ve got yourself into a bit of trouble, haven’t you?”

Zayn nods, head bumping into her hand, “I’ve messed everything up.”

She tilts her head understandingly. “Well let me put some food on the stove, and we’ll talk about it, alright?”

She twirls her free hand and the refrigerator door opens. Plates of leftover food come dancing out, and Zayn giggles. It’s a trick his mum always used to do when he and his sisters were younger and didn’t want to stop playing to come eat: chicken legs would come out in a conga line, long strands of pasta would do a little salsa with some veggies, and all of them would laugh hysterically and join in, making their way to the table.

She snaps her fingers and a small fire ignites on their gas stove. Most people just used spells to cook their food, but Zayn’s mum always insisted that the flavor just wasn’t the same as when you took the time to do it by hand.

She turns back to him and puts her palm to his cheek for a moment, smiling softly. “Now tell me all that’s happened, Darling.”

By the end of Zayn’s explanation, her smile has only grown wider, and Zayn has to ask why.

“Well, you’re just like your father. Always have been- quiet and kind hearted and funny. Should’ve known you’d be just the same in love." Zayn raises an eyebrow in question. "Oh your father didn't talk to me for weeks after he found out we were each other's Soulmates. Scared him half to death it did." She takes a sip of tea. "Obviously I got him to come around eventually, but it was quite the challenge."

She lightly scratches at her waist almost subconsciously, right over where Zayn knows her Mark lies beneath her shirt and where his father's hand always automatically travels to when he stands beside her. Zayn thinks of his Mark at the point of his shoulder and how Harry's always taken to cuddling up to the same spot, resting his cheek on it when he's feeling giggly or tired.

Zayn's chest seems to grow with an important feeling he can't quite understand, like his whole life in front of him is expanding to include another person, but he can't fully see the picture yet.

"So what do you think I should do? I don't think Harry's feeling as understanding as you."

"Oh, I wasn't understanding at first," she assures him. "I was going after your dad sure, but only to tell him how rude he was for ignoring me like that." She brushes the flyaway fringe from Zayn's face, giving him a sympathetic look. "The only thing that made me come around was when he was finally honest. About everything. You need to tell Harry everything you told me. I know you care about him, right?"

Zayn nods, playing with them hem of his shirt to keep his hands busy.

"Then everything will work out. It's Fate, Sunshine."

Zayn knocks on Harry's door, heart beating hard in his chest. This is the first time Harry's responded to any of his texts in a week. The only thing close to this was when Harry didn't text Louis or Zayn back for a full 24 hours after a particularly awful prank.

When Harry opens the door he looks tired and resolutely unsympathetic. Zayn assures himself, thinking back to his mum's words that everything will work out because he really does love Harry, and as much as he hates to admit it he's missed getting his corny text message jokes over the past week. Zayn had even thought of sending one himself, but couldn't come up with anything that struck the right balance of kuso like Harry always seems to.

Harry invites him and offers him something to drink.

"No, thank you," Zayn replies. He's already embarrassed, picturing the glass of water shaking in his hand as soon as Harry gives it to him.

They sit down on the couch together and moments pass in a thick silence while Zayn gathers up the nerve to say what he had planned.

"I'm so sorry that I hurt you, Harry. You’re right; I was incredibly selfish and I'm really very, very, very sorry."

He looks down at his hands, and he's holding them together so tightly his knuckles have gone white. He pulls his fingers apart and tries to settle them on top of his thighs.

"I just don't understand why you did it, Zayn. It wasn't like you at all- I just can't make sense of it."

Zayn sighs, looking up to the ceiling while he gathers his thoughts. When he looks back, Harry's eyes are round with hurt and confusion, and all the thoughts from Zayn's head disappear. Instead what spills from his mouth is just a stream of consciousness; it's honesty.

"I freaked out. I saw the Mark- my Mark- and I didn't know what to do. I mean, here you are fucking perfect, and I can't equal that. I can't. All the time I'm just scrambling, trying to impress you. Y'know you always ask me to go out with you, and I almost never do, and you always look so disappointed about it. And we don't like the same stuff- I don't like baking, Harry! I just don't! I've tried it, and it always turns out shit! I know you wanted that in your Soulmate, but I'm just not good at it. I want to be everything you want, but I'm not. I'm, like, significantly less. And you don’t deserve that Harry. You don't deserve that at all. You deserve someone who's going to want to join you in all those things and be everything, and that's just not me. I don't even know why Fate put us together. I just feel like... you got the short end of the straw."

"Zayn, I-" Harry scoffs, eyes wandering like he's trying to find the right words. "You're so wrong. So, so wrong. You're saying these things like you know what I want, and you just don't. I'm fine going out by myself most of the time; it's fun for me. Of course I invite you because it'd be even better with you there, but I don't hold it against you." He huffs out a breath. "Look, you know how sometimes I like to shape shift into a cat?" Zayn nods. "Well, you're the only one I do that with."

Zayn's tilts his head in confusion. "What do you mean? I've seen you shape shift around all the boys before."

"No, I mean specifically turning into a cat. I've never once done that around them. Because they'd... pull at my whiskers and tail, and it'd all be in good fun, but... usually when I shape shift it's to get away from myself for a bit. And I know you won't do that to me. I trust you not to 'cause it's just not your way; you understand. I love when we lay around together, Zayn. I love doing nothing with you. Everything else just fades out. I didn't know that was going to grow into anything bigger; I didn't know we were going to be Soulmates for Christ’s sake, but that just made it worse when you didn't tell me." Harry looks down. He's mumbling slightly, and his voice sounds tender. "It made it seem like you didn't want me at all, like you didn't even care enough to put me out of my fucking misery."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, Harry," Zayn says and sits patiently waiting for a reaction.

Harry lets his bottom lip fall from between his teeth where he's been chewing on it, and lumps forward on top of Zayn, burying his head in his neck. Zayn freezes for a moment in shock before wrapping his arms around Harry tightly, relief flooding his body.

Harry's voice is muffled when he speaks again, but Zayn can still understand him. "I wish you would've just told me."

"Me, too," Zayn whispers. "I was being stupid."

"So stupid," Harry agrees, and Zayn feels his mouth turn up in a smile.

They lie still together for a long while, and Zayn tightens his grip around Harry not wanting any space between them, feeling desperate with the need to just hold him. He rubs his hand across his back, feeling the solidity of Harry underneath the fabric of his shirt. Zayn thinks Harry's fallen asleep, but his head pops up suddenly. Zayn smiles at the pink indents on his face from laying on Zayn's shirt and smoothes his hand over Harry's hair.

"I can't believe I didn't figure out you were my Soulmate." Harry flicks a finger at Zayn's quiff, making it bounce slightly. "It was literally staring me in the face the whole time."

Zayn grins, relaxing his arms so his hands rest on Harry's hips. "Especially all the teasing you lads gave me when I first got the streak; calling me names. I mean I always knew you were a little daft, but..."

"Hey!" Harry protests, pushing against Zayn's chest, but there's no heat behind it. They've fallen back together, easy as anything. "And for the record I only said that it matched you because you're so sweet."

He gives one of his award winning smiles, the ones that makes Zayn's breath stop short in his throat, and Zayn rolls his eyes, tongue poking out from behind his teeth as he giggles softly.

Harry leans back down, closer to Zayn's face, studying him. "We're Soulmates." He moves his mouth around the words slowly, like he's trying to figure out if it sounds right.

"I know," Zayn sighs. "Weird. To have it... settled."

"Yeah, I thought it would be different. Some big whirlwind. But...you're my best mate."

Zayn considers this for a moment, turning over the idea in his head. "I guess that's what Soulmates are. They're just your best mate that you sometimes wanna snog a lot."

Harry's grin goes mischievous, leaning in to nudge his nose against Zayn's. "You wanna kiss me a lot?"

Zayn shoots back, challenging, "Do you wanna kiss me a lot?"

"Of course," Harry immediately replies. Zayn's eyes go wide, and his mouth opens slightly. "Oh don't act surprised, you doughnut."

"How am I not supposed to be surprised? You never tried to kiss me before!"

Harry scoffs. "I try to kiss you all the time- you just always push me away."

Zayn stutters over his words before settling on, "I thought you just meant it as a joke, like with all the other boys. And I get nervous..." Zayn adds on, his voice getting quieter.

Harry laughs in disbelief. "Why would you ever be nervous? Everybody wants to kiss you."

Zayn shrugs his shoulders. "Only care if you want to, though."

Harry beams, crinkles at the corners of his eyes forming, and he leans down, pressing his mouth against Zayn's. Zayn lets out a small, surprised squeak before recovering, hand settling at the back of Harry's neck to hold him tighter against him and tangle his fingers in his hair. Harry settles all his weight against him and brushes his thumb over the top of Zayn's cheekbone, and Zayn shivers. He can't tell how long they kiss, getting lost in it until nothing else exists except Harry's body and mouth moving against his. Zayn feels the air, or the energy as Harry would say, change around them. It feels as though all the time he spent pining after Harry like a puppy and all the time still between them to come have shifted into place, the fog clearing from his mind, and he's never felt surer of anything in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm so happy I got to be a part of this exchange, and I hope what I wrote does the prompt justice! (The title of the story is taken by The Descendents song of the same name.)


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